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I know you've gotten used to my BS and the odd stories I come up with, but the simple, uncomplicated pleasures are always the best.
Just tonight I managed to make it to the john all by myself and enjoy a nice, country, whatchamacllit. Usually I have quite a bit of company that couldn't be more interested in what's going on if they were doing it themselves.
A movement at the bottom of the door caught my eye, and when I looked down there was Traveller's paw sticking under the door, waving at me frantically. I leaned over and touched that paw--you've all been there, done that--and he was in ecstasy. Soon Willoughby stuck his paw under the door and waved it around. I touched it, and he went bonkers, meowing in that little, squeaky voice and trying to get caressed by the old man.
I had both hands busy and enjoying every minute of it. Then Sasha stuck her paw under the door.
Well, I had no more hands. Both Traveller and Willoughby were squirming and meowing and in advanced stages of pure rapture, and poor Sasha wasn't getting any caresses.
About that time Sasha's paw disappeared. A moment later there was a blood-curdling screech, followed by some frantic scrabbling at the door and Traveller's and Willoughby's paws being abruptly withdrawn. All was silent for a moment, then slowly, enticingly, Sasha's paw reappeared. Alone. I decided I had better tickle her paw for a few moments. I hate to think what would happened to me if I'd simply stood up and walked out without petting her, too. She's a lot like Patty that way.
Editor's note:
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